The Outside
by harry horror
Summary: After spending his entire life stuck in the tomb, his yami doesn't bother showing up until he's free. [Finding You universe]


This is a stand alone one-shot, but it is based on the Malik from Finding You, particularly the meeting of him and Mariku mentioned in chapter 11. I'm taking some liberties with Mariku's character, as in I am writing him as older and a little less drunk on the crazy sauce.

* * *

The Outside

* * *

It was too fucking hot to be outside. Malik pulled his hat further down, trailing after Isis as she looked over the selection of figs, melons and plums stacked up on a vendor's stall. It was just past mid-day and the sun was high above them, casting down into the alley in a blanket heat that had been going since the start of summer three weeks ago. The market was packed with people, air heavy with the spice of the kebobs grilling a few booths down. He stuck close to Isis as she moved forward to the next stall, turning her nose up at the prices scrawled on the cardboard under each basket.

"Too expensive," she muttered, reaching up to adjust her head scarf. She'd never worn the scarf in the tomb, and he'd thought after a few weeks of living on the outside she would tire of it, but even after eight months she insisted on keeping with modern traditions.

Malik wiped the sweat from his temple, knowing better than to complain about the heat. It may have been freezing most of the time in the tomb, but his father had beat any whining out of him from the moment he could speak.

He dug out his mobile as it buzzed in his pocket, checking a text from one of his classmates from the school Rishid had enrolled him a few weeks after they'd escaped. After living so long without technology, he still found himself mesmerized by the device. The phone was dated, a hunk of plastic compared to the devices his classmates had, but to him, the technology still seemed like magic.

Snorting, he typed back a response, hanging back as Isis picked up a melon at a stand a few feet away, turning it over in her hands. _Finally_. The sooner she bought something, the sooner they could go home and he could park his ass under the AC in their apartment and watch television. Rishid would scold him for being so lazy, especially considering the homework he still had to get done, but it would be worth it to escape the heat for a few hours.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket, stiffening as he felt someone draw close behind him. _Pickpocket_ , he guessed, grinning. He'd spent enough time fighting for his life in the tomb, that he'd relish the chance to draw some blood in the light of day. Turning, he'd started to raise his fist, surprised when the person reached out and grabbed his arm, spinning him around.

The man was well over six foot, with broad shoulders and a black cloak, dwarfing his leaner, scrawnier frame with thick thighs and arms. Purple irises, not unlike his own, met his.

It only took a second before he realized who he was.

 _You've got to be fucking kidding me._ His father had tortured him his entire childhood about how his yami would never come for him, and the bastard couldn't be bothered to show up until _now_? The rage bubbled up inside of him, furious in its need to escape. He tried wrenching his wrist free, ready to deck the man, break a few ribs, a leg – fucking something – anything to release the anger that had been building toward this bastard since the day he learned his birthright.

The man tightened his grip on his arm.

Then it hit him.

Calm.

It was as if every bad thought had been sucked from his mind. Warmth, so different from the heat of the sun, flooded him, loosening the tightness of his shoulders as he blinked, almost pitching forward at the sudden gap in emotion. _Magic_. He yanked back hard, breaking the man's hold as he tripped backwards and turned, hauling ass in a full-out sprint. He heard Isis yell his name as he passed her, and he cursed, skidding to avoid a cart, losing his hat to the wind as the man chased behind him.

He tore down the street, tearing past people on the sidewalk as he ran without direction _._ If the man caught him, he'd be a goner – easily controlled by the magic that linked them. His only chance was to get as far away from the bastard as jumped a palette of boxes in the middle of the sidewalk, turning a corner toward a residential district.

His breath was raw in his throat. The man's footsteps pounded behind him. He was gaining. His feet almost slipped from under him as he turned down an alley, righting himself as his assailant swore behind him, gravel scattering under his boots. He ducked under a laundry line, legs pumping harder, but the footsteps kept getting closer and closer and…

 _Fuck!_

Gravel burned into his palms as he caught himself from slamming into the dirt. A woman's scream echoed down the alley, shutters snapping closed above them, but he was more preoccupied by the man sitting on his back, trying to mash his face into the ground.

"Get off!" Malik forced out. He shifted his hips, hoping for leverage. Instead, his pelvic bones gnashed into the ground as his attacker settled his full weight on him, knees pressed into his upper arms. Sweat burned his eyes as he lost their silent struggle to keep his head up, one strong hand pressing his temple against the dirt.

"Fuck you!" The curse cut through the silence of the alley, but his attacker had yet to speak. Testing the weight pressing down on his head, he swore as his skull reconnected with the cold, packed earth below him. He was already tiring from the struggle, but he managed to jerk his arm free. Bracing himself, he grunted as he met the full weight of the man on top of him. _Heavy son-of-a-bitch._ His moment of freedom died as rough fingers gripped his wrist, twisting his elbow until he was trapped, shoulder locked behind him.

The man's fingers were hot against the skin of his forearm, and he scowled as the man pressed his full palm into the grip. It was only then that another conscious brushed against his.

"Get out of my head," Malik snarled. He renewed his attempt at breaking free, slapping mental barriers closed as his shoulder burned behind him.

"Where's the rod?" the man said. It was the first time he'd spoken, and Malik scowled. Of course he wanted the rod.

"Gone," Malik said. He winced as the man pushed into the lock on his shoulder. "Yeah, screw you too." The man said something in ancient Arabic, and he scowled at the familiar words. "Yeah, well, you can take the hikari bullshit and shove it."

He grunted as the man's weight eased off him. Pins and needles raced to his fingers as he shook out his arm, whipping around to take out the guy's kneecaps. But his assailant was already out of reach, arms crossed and scowling as he watched him. Malik scrambled to his feet, wincing as he tested his weight on his left leg. His knee had hit the ground in the struggle, gravel embedded in the skin there. Running away had just gotten a whole lot more difficult.

"You're too late," Malik said. He wiped the dirt from the side of his face. "I lost the rod eight months ago." That was a lie. Technically, the rod was still in the possession of his asshole father.

The man's scowl deepened.

Malik edged backwards, ready to make another run for it when the man's conscious battered against his. Gritting his teeth, he pushed back, ignoring the ache at the base of his skull. He'd spent his whole life fighting, and if this bastard thought he was going to make things easy, he had another thing coming. The man's aura was dark, reaching out to surround his mind, forcing its way inward. His head pounded, ache creeping up to split the back of his head as he forced his barriers out.

"You won't win," Malik said, panting from the effort.

The man grinned. "Try me."

The assault tripled in intensity. His temples burned as he sunk to his knees. _No, no, no_. He pulled everything inwards, closing off the recess of his mind as he retreated. Isis would have been proud at the defense. His conscious blackened, and he swayed, locking down barriers, until he was positive the cracks in his defenses had been sealed. The effort had drawn the last bit of his energy, but the pressure on his mind eased.

Hands caught his shoulders as he pitched forward. _Shit._ The man's aura rolled through him as the adrenaline of the chase faded, every fiber of fight dying as the man kneeled, tossing him onto his shoulder.

"You…" His words slurred. _Don't pass out. Don't…_ Consciousness spun as the man's arm tightened around him, palm slipping under his shirt, hot against the base of his spine. Malik collapsed forward, boneless as the man stood and started walking.

The heat of the man's energy was a slow burn through his veins, urging him to surrender. Isis had spent half of his life warning him about the strength of the bond, and now he was in the most precarious position possible. He tried to move his head, propping his eyelids open just enough to watch the man step out of the alley.

 _I have to get someone's attention. I have to…_ The man's aura flooded his, forcing the rest of the sentence from his head as he struggled to reclaim himself. All he could feel was the rough press of the man's fingers on the skin of his back. _Stay awake…_ But the energy, engineered of the ancient magic that gave him his life's blood, urged him to relax in the presence of his yami.

Down the street, a horn blared, but Malik was too far gone to cry for help. _Fuck._ His vision darkened, head pitching to the side as he blinked from consciousness.

* * *

It had been hours when Malik woke again. He breathed in unfamiliar fabric softener, cicadas chirping outside of the window in a chorus that could have never existed in the city. They were out of the city limits. The room was dark with night, and he dug in his pocket, looking for his mobile. Gone. Either lost in the street of the earlier struggle or in his captor's hands. Isis was sure to be a wreck.

Shifting from under the sheets, he staggered as he got to his feet, knee still stinging from the brunt of his earlier fall. The window was open on the far wall, and he limped over, noting the short drop to the ground. He sniggered. He'd be home in no time.

His heart sunk as a familiar voice cut through the room. "I'll tie your ass down if I have to come get you."

Malik turned, blinking in the darkness until he spotted him in the corner. The man's conscious brushed his, and he frowned, baring his teeth.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he said. The venom in his tone surprised him; it sounded so much harsher outside of the walls of the tomb.

The man stood, crossing the room in a few long strides. He was smiling, the grin just short of manic. "You got some mouth on you, kid."

"Whatever you're thinking…" Malik said, ignoring the brush of the man's aura as it skittered up his spine, carrying with it the man's desire, "…cut it out." He scowled as the man's pocket lit up with an incoming call, sputtering as the man pulled out his stolen mobile. "Give me my phone!"

He reached forward, intent on snatching it from the man's head. The man grabbed his wrist, wrenching him forward. He stumbled, losing his balance and crashed into the man's chest, phone thudding to the floor. It was like falling into a damn wall. The bastard was built like a rugby player.

The man's hand gripped the back of his neck. Malik jerked as the energy rolled through him, snarling as the man forced his head back. He couldn't make out his face, but he snapped a hand up, hoping to catch the man's chin. His intention died as he found himself pinned to the man's chest, one strong arm trapping him. He ignored the slump of his shoulders as the man's energy flooded him.

He wriggled, hoping to free himself, but it was pointless. The man wasn't budging.

"Urgh! Let go!" Malik snapped, but the tone already lacked the bite of before. He collapsed forward, hating himself as much as the man in front of him. The arm tightened around him, keeping him upright, and his stomach tightened as he realized just how precarious the position was.

"That better be my phone in your pocket," Malik said, earning a low chuckle.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

Malik frowned. "Forget it." He stiffened as the man's conscious bashed into his. He didn't have another mental defense in him. "Okay, jeez! It's Malik." The assault on his mind eased. _Fucking asshole._

"You will take me to the Millennium Rod," the man said.

Every part of him froze. He wouldn't go back to the tomb, back to his father, ever. Panic crept up his spine, settling low in his throat as he tried to yank himself free. He caught the man by surprise, earning a few inches of space, freeing his hands. His breathing was heavy, and suddenly, the darkness of the room was stifling. He tried pushing out of the man's hold. It was too hot, too dark, too…His thoughts quickened, snarling together even as the man reclaimed his hold on him.

He froze as the man's lips crashed against his. His hands gripped the man's shirt, eyes wide. This wasn't…he couldn't…The man's grip tightened on him, strong fingers at the base of his neck, cupping his head, holding him steady. It felt fucking good. _Magic,_ he reminded himself, but he was already relaxing, pressing into the man's hold.

Malik closed his eyes, opening his lips to stroke his tongue against the seam of the man's lips. The man opened for him, lips slanting over his as a hand slipped to his lower back, pressing him closer.

Gasping at the sudden alignment of their hips, Malik worked an arm free, slipping his palm under the man's shirt to rest on his abs. Shit, this guy was built. He swallowed a breath as the man broke free of his mouth, lips hot as they trailed to his neck.

"Malik," the man's voice was hot at his ear, tempting him to do his bidding, magic pumping hot in his veins. "Get on your knees."

 _Fucker_.

"Fuck you," Malik snarled, trying to yank away, but he only made it as far as the man allowed. He cursed as he was boosted from the ground by one strong arm, the wind knocked out of him as he hit the mattress, springs groaning as he tried to get his bearings.

There was a rustle of clothing before the man climbed on top of him – fully nude.

"What the hell!" Malik said, and despite the outrage in his voice, his shorts had just gotten a whole lot tighter. He pushed against the man's chest, trying to reclaim space. He couldn't think with him so goddamn close to him.

The man took the opportunity to grab his wrists, pinning them above him as he reclaimed his mouth, body stretched out over his.

 _Fuckkkk._ Every part of him was on fire. He wasn't thinking straight. He was letting the magic of their bond control him. He turned his head to the side, trying to avoid the man's lips. He couldn't think. He couldn't…He jerked hard as the man's hand gripped him through his pants. Attempting to wriggle free, Malik knew he wouldn't last if the man touched him. He had to… He squeezed his eyes shut, as the man kissed his neck, his free hand reaching down to unbutton his fly.

"Don't – " Malik snapped his mouth shut as the man's fingers brushed over him in his boxers.

The man smiled against his neck. "Let me hear you, hikari."

He cried out the moment the man wrapped his fist around him. Lips slanted over his, capturing the noises coming from his throat. He was wanton, panting, gasping in the man's grip. It was too good, too much, and it couldn't have lasted more than a few moments before he was jerking in the grip, collapsing back against the mattress, spineless against the sheets. He was spent, and he blinked up at the man as he released his wrists, trying to gather his wits as the man pulled his shorts and boxers off, exposing him in the darkness.

"Don't," Malik said.

The man dropped the clothes off the side of the bed, ignoring him. "Take off your shirt."

Malik scowled.

"Now," the man said, voice hardening. When he didn't move, the pressure on his mind increased.

"Fuck you," Malik said, stripping the shirt over his head, tossing it in the direction of the bastard. He'd been asleep for hours, but suddenly he could barely keep his eyes open. _The bond._ The magic had been lying dormant for so long, and it would take weeks before he adapted to the strain of the energy required to sustain it, let alone fight it. He tensed as the man lay down beside him, reaching over for him.

Malik hated the fear that unfurled in his stomach.

"I said don't," Malik said, but his limbs were dead weight beneath him as the man wrapped his fingers around his bicep.

"You are one mouthy brat," the man said, gripping his arm as he yanked him up and over top of him.

Malik huffed as he settled, plastered against the man from head to toe, head tucked in the crook of his neck. He took a deep breath as a wave of calm flooded him. _Skin to skin contact,_ he realized. It would be a lot easier to keep him pliant the closer they were physically. He slumped forward, frustrated as started losing his grip on consciousness yet again.

The man's arousal was still heavy against his thigh, and he tried lifting his head, scowling as a hand clamped down on the back of his head, keeping him from moving. He wriggled his legs, freezing as fingers pressed into the base of his skull, warning him.

"You keep moving, and you'll be on your knees, finishing me off before you can blink," the man said, and Malik knew he wasn't fucking around. The man loosened his grip on his head. "Go to sleep."

"What's your name?" Malik said, struggling to stay awake.

The man reached over him, but the shlick shlick shlick as he gripped his arousal was the only noise as the man strained below him.

Malik frowned, closing his eyes, and probing forward into the man's mind. It only took a moment before he captured the name. _Mariku._ The man's mind was a torrent of chaos – emotions, thoughts, memories scrambled into one packed ball. It would take decades to ever truly understand it. He paused for a moment, concentrating on the man's aura, tensing as the darkness wrapped around him.

The sensation was heady, like having one too many glasses of wine. It would be so easy to give into it, allow their conscious' to blend together in a synchronicity that would allow them to truly become one. It took moment before he pulled back, withdrawing his mind until he was back in a foreign bedroom, nude and laying on top of a nude stranger, with no idea of how to get home.

But the magic kept him compliant, exhausted, forcing the natural barriers of his mind to relax into the man beneath him. After all, what good was a hikari if they were able to resist opening their mind to the yami they were supposed to be keeping in check?

The man's pace had quickened, the muscles of his neck tight as he reached down to clamp a hand on Malik's ass, pressing against him.

"Mariku," Malik choked at the sudden pressure on his groin. The name was foreign on his lips, but Mariku grunted a second later, tensing for a long moment before collapsing underneath him.

They were silent for a few moments, Mariku's breath heavy as he dropped an arm over him, and any illusion Malik had of escaping in the middle of the night died as Mariku wrapped his free hand in the last few inches of his hair, closing his grip. Other than turning his head to either side, he was stuck.

 _God dammit._ He hated this. He hated being powerless, and frankly, struggling to convince himself to work up a proper level of rage toward this bastard was just insult to injury. This wasn't how things were supposed to be, how he wanted his life to end up, chained to a horny psychopath who just wanted him for the power of the Millennium Rod.

Yet as soon as he managed to cut through the fog and start working himself up, Mariku shifted beneath him, arm tightening around him until they were fully aligned.

"I hate you," Malik said, but the words were a whisper as the grip of the dark aura surrounded him again.

Mariku's fingers pressed against the skin of his back. "Keep it up, kid," he said. "The more pissed you get, the more I'm ready to keep going."

Malik scowled, biting his tongue as he closed his eyes again. The fog consumed his conscious, and he dropped his chin, allowing himself to drift. He'd find a way out of this. After all, after surviving a psychotic father in a tomb for his entire childhood, getting rid of this bastard should be a piece of cake.


End file.
